Truce

William lived twenty-six years in a lighthouse,	 
Twenty-six years--watching, watching--,
Twenty-six years warning ships from	
Their final tack 
Twenty-six years, seven months, nineteen days. 

In the sandblock cottage, time was spliced by moon to moon, 
His chisel tracks marked passing as on walls of darkened gaol. 

How many dusk moths grew weak with his waiting? 
How many sunrises blackened his day? 

Twenty-six years ,this was William, his counting, his countenance 
Penance,his wishing stone worn. 

Twenty-six years of regret for the hunger,
Twenty-six years of eyes scanning horizon 
Westward the desert, then water, then home. 
My Bonnie lies over the ocean of punishment.
William lived twenty-six years all alone.